


Fallen

by sammac7



Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-05-23
Updated: 2013-06-17
Packaged: 2017-12-12 16:42:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/813732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sammac7/pseuds/sammac7
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel is an agent at a criminal organization that specializes in the extraction of secretive information and the extermination of those who originally held the information. When he’s assigned to the case of Dean Winchester, the notorious racer worth millions with a family worth even more than he is, he expects it to be no more than a routine operation. However, Castiel gets a little bit more than he bargains for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

> The following is a work of fiction, which may cause some readers some discomfort due to the alcoholism and violence involved.

The man sat in his car, shrugging off his trenchcoat. The cumbersome item, he assumed, would draw far too much attention to himself, something he wished to avoid at all costs. He had taken other precautions, such as parking nearly two blocks away in the parking lot of the nearby Wal*Mart. He had taken special care to make sure he was dressed in non-descript clothing, and even more care was put into concealing the tattoo of angel’s wings—the mark of his employer—on the nape of his neck.

After reassuring himself that he was, in fact, completely unidentifiable and unable to be remembered distinctly, he climbed out of his car. The move was done with surprising grace for a man with an athletic, six-foot tall frame, perhaps suggesting that there had been professional training somewhere in his past. He walked towards his destination calmly, almost serenely. To the unknowing, he was indistinguishable from the other passerby, merely a man walking around town after his work-day was over. To the trained eye, however, it was apparent that he was at least slightly different than the others.

He held himself higher than the others, yet again suggesting professional training of some sort that had left him unable to slouch by even a fraction of an inch. With every few steps, his eyes would scan the largest area as he could without turning his head. His hands clenched into fists and then unclenched again and again, as if he were preparing to defend himself against a deadly attacker. Luckily for him, though, he was in no immediate danger, no matter how unsure he was about the upcoming days. As such, he arrived at his destination without anything of interest happening, which lifted a weight he hadn’t known he’d been carrying off of his chest.  
The automatic door to the seemingly normal business building slid open as he approached it, and the man gave a gentle nod in the direction of the secretary. “Good afternoon, Margaret,” He greeted, much in his usual manner.

She responded with a similar nod before gesturing to the back hallway. “Afternoon, Castiel. She’s waiting for you in the back room, as normal.” She was answered with a nod as he walked towards the room. Before he entered, he habitually stood straighter and held his head up even higher, if that was even possible. As soon as the dark wooden door cracked open, he was met with the cold voice of an even colder woman.

“It’s so nice to see you again, Castiel,” His employer said, standing up momentarily and gesturing to the chair opposite of her desk. “Sit down; I have another assignment for you.” Castiel looked at her with weary eyes, wary of his new assignment. He was only personally called in for assignments that were too high-risk or too advanced for her other agents to work. He was only personally called in for deep, undercover operations. The rest of his assignments were simply given to him over a secure telephone line, never in person.

“Do you know of Dean Winchester, the high profile racer?” She asked. Her voice seemed to lack the natural emotion needed to create the normal fluctuations in a sentence, though, so her question came off as more of a statement. “Situations have risen, and he needs to be—ah, well, you know, don’t you? It’s really all we do here. As you know, he’s recently come out as bisexual, and that’s where you come in. Get close to him, let him fall for you. Then, when you’ve enamored him and gathered enough inside information, we’ll send in the team to take care of him.”

Castiel looked at her to see if she was joking or if she was, in fact, serious. He detected many problems with this situation, the first one being that he wasn’t of the correct sexual orientation to even pretend to fall in love with Dean Winchester. The second was that he was completely and utterly sure that making a full time racer fall for him would be no easy task, especially when said racer could easily take nearly any woman—or man—that he desired. The last reason being that extracting personal, secretive information from a man worth millions would be no easy feat either.

As if anticipating his protests, she eyed him yet again before speaking. “I know that your sexuality doesn’t quite match, but you’ve worked with bigger obstacles before. You’ve faked love with women before, and it’s just the same mechanics. As for enticing him, Castiel, you’re charming and charismatic, and you’ve done the same to many people before. It should not be a challenge for you to charm our racer. After all, a man like him has many secrets, yet nobody to tell them to.” Her mouth set into a firm line, as if she was daring Castiel to protest again. He knew it would be a useless effort that would only anger her, so he held his tongue.

“Besides, his entire family is worth even more than he is,” she continued almost nonchalantly, seemingly unbothered by the fact that she was in the process of orchestrating the murder of a member of one of the most prominent families in the country. “His brother’s a high profile lawyer, his dad’s made breakthroughs in the paranormal field. They’re going to have secrets that we haven’t heard the likes of.”

Castiel gave a deep sigh that started somewhere deep inside of him as he considered his options. He could refuse the job, but that would leave him out of work and blacklisted on every single agency that his rather specific skill set fit. This option was nearly impossible, and it was also highly probable that he would be killed on the spot. He could take the job, adding yet another name to the long list of those that he had gained the confidence of, only to betray them in the end. Neither was particularly appealing, but with each job he did he became closer to being able to run off and retire, to go completely off of the grid. That, it seemed, was the only solution for him. It was this way that he decided to accept the job, as if he had actually had much choice in the matter in the first place.

Slowly nodding, he paused to gather his standard questions in his head before he rapidly fired them off, “What’s my cover? When do I start? How long do I have? What exactly are you looking for?” His questions came quickly, without even a small pause to take a breath. Perhaps, he thought, if he talked fast enough and allowed her no time to process her answers, he would catch her in the middle of making a mistake, an error in judgment, or the act of not knowing an answer. Castiel had thought it bizarre that she had seemed perfect, lacking mistakes and imperfections in a way that could only be described as inhuman. It had become his desire in the past months to catch her at a moment when she had seemed human, complete with mistakes and emotion, which she seemed to lack far too often to be normal. Unfortunately, he had been unable to do so as of yet.  
“You’re going to be his new neighbor, as cliché as it sounds,” She responded, “You’ll start tomorrow, and this will be a fully immersive under-cover operation. You’ll live in the house next door to him for as long as it takes to win him over, and as long as it takes to extract the information. As for what you’re searching for, unlike other assignments, this one has no specifics. One of wealthiest families in the country is bound to have numerous closets simply overflowing with skeletons. Your job is to simply uncover all of them.” She stood up suddenly, indicating that the conversation was over. “The details are in here,” She finished, dropping a think manila envelope onto his lap before walking out of the room.

He opened the thick envelope and shook out the contents into his lap. Inside, he found the key to the house as well as its address, information on when the moving truck would show up tomorrow (after all, it was especially important to make this as believable as possible) as well as the standard paperwork that would create an entirely new identity for Castiel. He would keep his first name, as it was easier to maintain his cover that way. However, the rest of his history—at least, what little of it remained—would be erased and replaced with the fabricated history of a Castiel Novak, a thirty-three year old former doctor that had been able to retire early due to his immense number of medical breakthroughs.

Standing up slowly, he made his way out of the room and then out of the building after nodding a goodbye to Margaret. He walked down the street in the cautious way he had earlier, ready to begin the sensitive dance of deception his job required yet again.


	2. Two

The next morning Castiel rose even earlier than normal and gave his apartment a last, longing sigh. He wouldn’t see it again for months, maybe longer.  Although, if the house he’d be living in lived up to the photos he’d seen of it, he supposed that he wouldn’t miss the apartment itself all that much, but just his own things. He wasn’t allowed much of his own stuff, and certainly nothing that Castiel Novak wouldn’t have. Instead, the moving van that he’d be meeting would actually fulfill the purpose of a moving truck as it brought every item that could possibly be needed to pass off as a highly successful doctor.

And as Castiel sat in his new front yard later that morning, checking off the boxes on the list as the movers brought them into his new house, he realized that he would never cease to be astonished at the lengths his agency and his employer would take in order to ensure a successful assignment.

Indeed, the actions taken were nothing short of impressive, and it was obvious as soon as the moving truck was opened. It held countless pieces of nearly priceless antique furniture, matching the nearly priceless estate that he was now living on. The estate itself held an undeniable air of superiority that was second to only one other in the neighborhood, and that was the house of none other than Dean Winchester.

Both estates had long, winding driveways that were secured by an impressive iron gate. The driveway itself led to an even more astounding garage that was the size of most normal, two story houses. The garages, however, were dwarfed by mansions. Castiel’s was merely five stories tall compared to Dean Winchester’s eight and took up half the space the Winchester Estate did, but both of the mansions were palaces in their own right.

But still, Castiel couldn’t help but feel a pang of jealousy towards the other man. While both of their estates were magnificent, Dean Winchester had actually earned it. He had accumulated the money himself through his racing, and was assisted by his extremely successful family.  He actually _lived_ this life, whereas Castiel had been put into this life as a cover for a far more sinister plan.

He gave yet another deep sigh and resumed the checking off of boxes. It wasn't until nearly two hours later, when the movers were taking in the last few boxes, that he first saw Dean Winchester, who happened to walking up his driveway. Castiel, expecting as much, met him halfway. 

"I'm Dean Winchester," the other man began, extending his hand, keeping the other hand lodged in the pocket of his well-worn blue jeans. Castiel shook it, looking up the few inches it took to meet the eyes of the man that he would be manipulating over the course of the future. "It's not often we get somebody new around here," Dean continued, cracking a crooked smile, "So I always make it a habit to introduce myself."

"I'm Doctor Castiel Novak," Castiel introduced. He paused for a second before adding, "Well, former Doctor. I've just recently retired. Figured it was well past my time to focus on myself and making myself happy. All I've ever done in my life is make other people happy, and I need to be happy for once. Besides, I had gotten lucky with breakthroughs more in five years than some doctors twice my age had in their entire careers. The luck can only last for so long."

Dean just nodded, apparently relating to at least some of his response. "I understand," he confirmed, "about the whole 'I need to be happy for once' thing. My mom died when I was just three, and that's when my dad lost it. Just went batshit crazy and began obsessing over all of this paranormal stuff before he died a few years ago in a pretty bad car accident. Anyway, I basically raised my brother, Sam, and even put him through law school. Now that he's on his own and incredibly successful, though, I can focus on myself now."

Castiel struggled, looking for something to say that wouldn’t sound indifferent. Dean noticed his discomfort and shrugged him off. “Don’t worry,” he assured. “My dad wasn’t all that great; he was always dragging us along on his ghost hunts. He was family, though, despite the fact that he had a pretty horrible way of showing it.” Dean was silent for a second before he decided to continue. “What about you? Any family, anything?”

Castiel shook his head quickly and was immediately grateful that his cover’s backstory was at least vaguely similar in principal to his own.  “No family,” he confirmed. “I haven’t had enough time for myself lately, let alone a family.” And that, cover or no cover, was not far from the truth.

“Well, Cas,” Dean began, not even hesitating before coining the nickname. “you should eat ddinner with us tomorrow. My brother and his wife are spending a week at my place, and we’d hate for you to eat alone.” Cas must have nodded his head, because dean smiled. “Great, dinner’s served at seven. If you’re late, you’ll probably not have anything left to eat, so make sure you’re not late. Besides, you wouldn’t want to miss an evening with Sam and Jess. Trust me; you’ll never be bored around them.” With that, Dean Winchester strode off, not waiting for a response.

Castiel’s eyes followed him, and his gaze was so intense that he didn’t notice when the movers unloaded the last box and drove away. It was not until Dean’s muted green jacket had disappeared inside his estate that he realized he was standing in the middle of his driveway in an extremely confused state. He had expected Winchester, at the very least, to be a bit more reserved towards his new neighbor, especially given the recent media coverage regarding his sexuality. In the worst-case-scenario, Castiel would have expected it to take months to merely become friends with the man. In no situation had he imagined that he’d be eating dinner with him on just the second night, let alone at Dean’s request.

It was the something about the unpredictability in situations like this that Castiel found incredibly beautiful. Humans could not be reliably predicted. You couldn’t fabricate a single training program that would accurately encompass all of the possible outcomes. It just wasn’t possible, because people have emotions and emotions get in the way.

 

 

Ten hours and a rather large pile of empty cardboard boxes later, Castiel sat at his dining room table, looking over the documents that had been forged in order to fabricate an entire existence. He half-heartedly moved pieces of his dinner around his plate, not hungry in even the slightest, despite having worked for hours unpacking the majority of his new home. Instead, his thoughts wandered to the man whose blood would soon stain his conscience.

His career had never troubled him much before, but this op seemed different. All of his previous targets had been inherently, genuinely horrible people—some of which had more blood on their hands than Castiel’s entire organization combined. Dean’s only crime was that he was extremely affluent, but he would wind up dying in much the same way the others had.

He supposed that that was why he wanted to leave his career, before a case similar to this one occurred. Except that he had never truly expected to get a case like this one. He had expected to be stuck with the crime bosses and the murderers and the jewel thieves and con artists. He had never expected to be stuck with a man that, despite being ridiculously wealthy, was the most grounded and down-to-earth person he had ever met. He was a normal man stuck in an extremely special position, and that was what Castiel found most infuriating. Though he barely knew him, Castiel was sure that Dean Winchester did not deserve the demise that would inevitably fall upon him.


	3. Chapter 3

At six-thirty the next night, Castiel rang the doorbell of Dean Winchester’s estate. Within a few seconds, there was a muffled shout from inside that sounded vaguely like, “I’ll be there in a second!” So he waited, making sure that his plain shirt was completely tucked into his blue jeans. A minute later, the large door swung open, revealing a grinning Dean Winchester, who was wearing only a slight variation of his outfit from the day before. He motioned for Cas to follow him inside, shutting the door behind him.

“Sam and Jess are out on the patio by where I’m grilling. We’ll be eating in the dining room, though,’ dean explained, leading him through the respectably furnished house. It was tasteful, yes, and probably very expensive, but it was not as lavish as expected. It looked like any other home, just on a much larger scale. “Anyway, I’m glad you showed up. I was afraid that you wouldn’t after your pack of response yesterday.” Dean laughed, already extremely at ease with his new neighbor.

Cas opened his mouth to respond, but wasn’t able to, as they had just stepped onto the patio. Immediately, Sam and Jess stood up and began to make their way across the huge area, while Dean brushed past them on his way back to the grill. Sam’s hand gripped his wife’s waist tightly, as if he was afraid that if he let go then something would happen to her.

He stuck his other hand out and firmly shook Cas’s hand. “I’m Sam, and this is my wife, Jess,” he beamed. “It’s great to know that you’re not as pretentious as the last neighbor.”

Jess laughed, and her smile set out warmth that seemed to radiate in the air around them. “The old man wouldn’t even let anybody walk on the sidewalk in front of his house. He insisted that everybody walk in the street.”

“What—uh,  what happened to him?” Cas shifted his weight uneasily, incredibly aware of the possibility that the man’s demise was indirectly his own fault. He didn’t think he could add the death of an innocent—however batty he may have been—man to his already heavy conscience.

“He moved out about a month ago,” Sam laughed. “He kept talking all about how he was going to go buy a vineyard and live out the rest of his days there.” Cas let out a breath he hadn’t realized he had been holding. His moving out may have been in preparation for this assignment, but at least it hadn’t resulted in the death of the elderly man.

It was then that Cas, with a sudden sense of ease, really got to look at the two of them. Sam, who had to have been close to six and a half feet tall, towered over his wife in a way that could only be described as lovingly-protective. His plaid shirt, jeans, and jacket similar to that of his brother’s in no way matched his reputation as an incredible lawyer. He gave off the impression that he was fiercely protected and strong-headed, though he could be a much lighter-hearted man when he felt comfortable around the others in the area. Jess, however, gave off an impression that was nearly the polar opposite. She seemed almost fragile around those unfamiliar to her—quieter and reserved—while she was energetic and talkative around those she knew. Her light blonde curls fell gently past her shoulders, giving her the appearance of someone almost angel-like. Both Sam and Jess had a smile that seemed to give life to the other; it warmed the area surrounding them, bringing an unmistakable light into the conversation.

They eventually settled around the patio table, talking about various things. Dean was included as well, as the grill was just a few feet away. The conversation flowed with ease, as if they had known each other for years. At times, all four of them were doubled over in laughter, at others one was met with three attentive gazes as they told a story. There was not a single moment in which Cas found himself struggling in an attempt to mesh well into their dynamic, which gave him great relief.

Finally, at 7 o'clock, dinner was ready, just as promised. The four of them made their way towards the dining room, where a metal bucket filled with ice and bottles of both beer and soda was already out. Dean disappeared into the kitchen, only to reappear just a minute later with four plates, each laden with a picturesque hamburger, accompanied by the biggest baked potato Cas had ever seen—complete with butter, cheese, sour cream, bacon, and chives.

Dean set Cas’s plate down in front of him before sitting down himself, and they continued their conversation from outside in between bites of, truthfully, the best meal Cas had ever eaten. Sure, he’d had almost a scarcity of honest-to-goodness homemade meals in the past years, but that in no way detracted from the amazingness of it. It gave him a sense of belonging that was a strange comfort during his current situation, but it was quickly replaced by the same guilt he had felt the previous night.

His heart beat steadily rose as Cas became increasingly aware of the mind-numbing guilt he was experiencing. How could he take comfort from a man that Cas would ultimately be the demise of? How could he betray somebody so seemingly wholesome, somebody so seemingly _good?_

 

 

A few hours later, Sam and Jess had gone to their rooms, exhausted after a long drive during early morning hours, leaving Dean and Cas to sit on opposite ends of one of the enormous leather sofas in the living room, each with a beer in their hands. Cas had managed to shrug off his guilt for the moment, instead focusing intently on Dean, studying him, noticing all of his mannerisms, noticing everything. As they continued to talk about relatively mundane topics, he noticed that Dean’s eyes were very nearly the color of a forest that you’d expect to be positively brimming with life, which was, in fact, exactly what Dean seemed to do himself. It was a color that reminded Cas of home, or rather, made him feel at home.  It was color that reminded him of life and of vibrancy and vitality and everything that being alive should feel like, and it made Cas swell with a realization that Dean was living his life to the fullest. Dean had recently embraced his newly publicized sexuality, had recently been able to stop hiding things, and had recently been able to just _be._ That, in and of itself, was enough reason to make Dean seem so alive.

This train of thought led to Castiel saying, somewhat timidly, “You remind me of home.” His eyes watched Dean’s as they grew in first surprise, and then softened with acknowledgement. Dean considered this for a moment before he found a proper response.

“What exactly do you mean?”  Dean figured it could go two ways, because after all, his home was not a particularly pleasant experience from him. He had hoped it would be positive. God, did he ever want Cas’s impression of him to be positive. The man, all slim, trimmed, and athletic, had the build of a runner, but so seemingly fine-tuned in a way Dean had never seen before. Hell, Dean saw a lot of things in Cas that he’d never seen in anybody else before, man or woman.  Gorgeous blue eyes, which were bluer than Dean had previously thought humanly possible; he had not seen any other color with such depth and so many dimensions, and he assumed that if he wasn’t careful that he would get lost in those eyes.

Cas looked down, shielding his face from Dean’s careful gaze. He looked up only a moment later, stating a simple, “You’re welcoming.”  Dean gave a silent nod of understanding. They sat in silence before seeming to reach an unspoken agreement in which they would not broach the subject any further, lest they create an awkward scene out of something that would be best left as is.

“I—ah, I better get home,” Cas said, standing up and beginning to head towards the door. He thanked Dean profusely for the wonderful meal and for having him over, which caused Dean to promise to invite him over for dinner whenever Sam and Jess were in town. They shook hands at the door, somewhat awkwardly, as if they were both struggling to decide if they wanted to pull the other into the ever-so-stereotypical hug with a few thumps on the back.

They refrained, though, and Cas was left walking out of the Winchester Estate with a deflated feeling, like the night of his life had just come to an end. He had felt welcome in a room of almost complete strangers (though by the end of the night, they were certainly past that point) in a way that he had not ever felt before.  But at that realization, the guilt he had managed to suppress came back in full force, because he was simply pretending to belong, and he was simply pretending to be the man they thought he was.

With that realization, Castiel finally acknowledged the fact that this assignment would test him in ways he had not anticipated.


End file.
